


Counterclockwise

by Neapolitan



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Death, Heavy Angst, Kagerou Days AU, M/M, be warned, im so sorry, lots of death, this is painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 00:57:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13376730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neapolitan/pseuds/Neapolitan
Summary: An innocent suggestion spurred by the heat, a trip to 7-11 they'll never make, a truck driver going into cardiac arrest right before the light turns red. Michael, with his blind trust in traffic lights, not even bothering to look. He never fucking looks.(A Kagerou Days AU because I Hate Myself)





	Counterclockwise

**Author's Note:**

> here's a short. im sorry in advance
> 
> inspired by an animatic that went up today by mushie r. you can watch it here https://youtu.be/lxcRcV19RL8 if you want your heart ripped right out of your chest
> 
> (seriously go watch it it's so fucking good and it ends 100x happier than this crock of shit also im a sucker for good animation)
> 
> this hurt me but i had to

Jeremy tried. He tried so hard. But no matter what he did nothing fucking stuck. It never fucking **_STUCK_**

Michael walks a little ahead of him, rambling on about something or other. Jeremy knows every word he's about to say; knows every infliction, every emphasis. It blurs together into one big blob of white noise, crackling against the humid air like a spray of rampant fireworks. Mocking him. Mocking him for his incompetence, his stupidity, his inability to do fucking anything about it. He was so weak. That's why he failed.

And he'll fail and fail and fail again if it meant he'd at least have a chance to succeed, if not a sliver of hope.

Michael turns, asking what was wrong with a furrowed brow and a worried glint in his eye. Jeremy pastes on a convincing smile, he's getter good at that. It pacifies Michael just enough to keep him going, weaving through the small crowd to get to the intersection lights. Jeremy tugs his arm and he goes still. Jeremy insists on taking the long way to 7-11 this time, choosing to duck around the block instead of crossing the road. Michael asks why. Jeremy just tugs his sleeve until he complies, treading across the pavement gingerly as he vocalises his discontent at the change of direction. He complains idly about the heat. Jeremy doesn't have the heart, the strength, to argue with him.

When Michael takes his hand, swinging it back and fourth and he dives back into another rant, Jeremy resists the urge to cry. He didn't recognise this route before but now he does. He does with a clarity so clear it makes polished glass look opaque. They round the corner, an empty parking lot of loitering thugs in eyeshot. Michael doesn't notice them, caught up in the currents of his world. Jeremy stares them down, notices the glint in the eye of one of the thugs leaning against the wall of a building. He pushes off from his perch and it's all over from there.

Jeremy doesn't even scream when the knife plunges into Michael's chest. He watches the scene unfold with tired eyes, the tears streaming down his face merely an automatic reaction. The homophobic thugs turn to him now and he does nothing when they lay down the same treatment, beating him to an inch of his life.

He wished they'd kill him.

They leave with one final kick and Jeremy let's himself lie there and breath for a moment before he rolls over. The Squip is already there, crouched by Michael's bleeding body lying prone from where he'd tried to protect Jeremy, an expression somewhere caught between pity and disinterest, like it can't choose between the two. Jeremy doesn't even have to say it anymore, they've gone through this enough time to know what he wants. The Squip sighs.

 

The day begins again.

Jeremy doesn't know how many times he's been through this already. He'd lost count after the route where Michael had been accidentally tripped down the stairs by a rushing businesswoman. She hadn't even stopped to check when Michael landed with a sickening crack, his neck snapped almost in two. Jeremy did that entire route over again just to grab a hold of the woman and throw her down along with him. He expected to at least feel a little good about it, a twisted version of petty revenge. He didn't. He just felt sick.

He sat up in bed, ignoring the chirping text tone that rang insistently from his bedside. He already knew what it said.

Today was supposed to be a good day. It starts out good; a cute good morning text from Michael, his dad actually cooking him a nice breakfast, hitting every walk light on his way to the park, sitting on the swings with the love of his life laughing joyously in the summer heat.

Then it crumbles, disintegrates before his very eyes. Jeremy changes the route, changes the lead up, but the event stays the same every time. No matter what he does, no matter where he takes Michael, no matter what he says to him. It's always the fucking same.

Jeremy considers just not turning up, lying in bed and pretending to be sick, but he knows better. He knows this route. Michael will try to come to him, a bag of medicine or snacks depending on what he says. He'll never even make it to the door. Twice it was a stranger, texting while driving. One time it had been Jeremy's own father, backing out of the driveway too fast. He didn't have time to react to Michael's sudden appearance in his rear view. Jeremy never took that route again after that. It churns in his stomach, twisting and pulling like it was trying to rip his organs out.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to kick and snarl and scream and tear at the furniture. He wanted to grab Michael by the shoulders and shake him and yell _you're going to die you're going to die you're going to die and I can't stop it I'm so sorry I'm so sorry please forgive me_. He knows that route too. Michael gets angry at Jeremy, thinks it's all a joke, stalks away. In the darker hours of the day a report comes in. Weed. Deal. Mugged. Shot. Dead. Again.

He can't handle another. If he was going to watch Michael die he wanted to at least make him happy for his last few moments. It was the least this fucking world could do, making Michael happy before he had to be ripped away far too early, before Neremy begins the day over again looking for a new way to save Michael. So Jeremy dresses, wearing the clothes he knows Michael likes most on him, and trots downstairs to eat breakfast. He says goodbye to his dad, waves at his neighbour cutting grass in the sun, hits every walk light on his way to the park.

Michael is already on the swing when he arrives, his face raised to his sun, soaking its rays. He's beautiful in this light, the golden rays refracting off the leaves, casting a glow across his dark skin. He looks like a god or some kind of divine being. Jeremy kind of believes he is in a way. He could never figure out why a divine being like Michael was with a insignificant acolyte such as himself, and he'll never find out why.

He's greeted with a kiss and a hug and they sit on the swings for a while, wavering in the shimmering heat, talking about nothing and everything with the importance of the world. Jeremy treasures days like this. Or he did, right up until every day became like this. At this point Jeremy could barely remember his life beyond this day. The faces of his friends are like distant shapes separated by a thin layer of water, distorting them further. He couldn't remember the name of his school, couldn't recall his favourite class. He'd been here for so long. Even if he does manage, by some miracle, to break free – to save Michael – would he be able to return to his life as it had always been? He doesn't think so, and the thought falls away like sand between his fingers.

Michael grabs his attention. He looks worried. Jeremy tries to brush it off but Michael persists. He knows something's wrong, can see it in his face. Michael knows him too well. Jeremy makes an excuse on the fly, it's too hot. Michael suggests grabbing slushes at 7-11. Jeremy's breath hitches as he recognises the route that started it all.

_Fuck_

Michael grabs his hand and leads him away from the swing set, towards the gate, towards his death.

_He'd been so careless_

The crowd is dense, Michael gently manoeuvres his way around them. He never lets go of Jeremy's hand, squeezing it tightly in reassurance. Michael knows he doesn't like crowds. Michael doesn't know he's seen this crowd before.

_He knows how this ends_

They wait at the set of lights. The traffic light flickers to yellow. Michael is prepared to walk. Jeremy warns him to look, a last ditch effort. Michael doesn't listen. He never fucking listens.

_He can't stop it_

The light is red. Red like Michael's favourite hoodie. Red like Michael's cherry flavoured slushes. Red like Michael's blood. Jeremy can't do this. He can't live without Michael. Living without Michael is like living without air, without water, without light. He can't do this. He can't stop it. He looks to his left. The truck presses on with no signs of stopping. He looks at Michael, a divinity, a beam of perfection in such a dark, imperfect world. He looks at himself, so insignificant, so unworthy, so expendable. He makes a decision.

_He can't stop it, but he can change it_

His arms ache as he drags Michael away from the road but it's nothing compared to the agony of being hit. He feels his bones shatter, his organs rupture, his brain rattle. He falls. There's red everywhere, pain everywhere. He can't think, can barely breath. He hears Michael scream. It breaks his heart but it's the only way. With the last of his strength, Jeremy tilts his head over to look at Michael one last time. He saved him. He finally saved him. Michael is crouched by him, cradling him gently, begging him to stay awake. Jeremy smiles.

Seeing Michael alive and safe makes him happy to die.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_"You failed again."_

_"I know."_

_"How many times must you go through with this?"_

_"As many times as it takes. Forever if I have to. I won't stop until he's is safe."_

_"This is destroying you, Michael. This is destroying both of you."_

_"I don't care. I can't live without Jeremy. Take me back. I'll do better this time. I have to. **I have to**."_

_"…As you wish."_

 

The day begins again.


End file.
